


Fathers and Sons

by BookGirlFan



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookGirlFan/pseuds/BookGirlFan
Summary: The first Fred Andrews knew of it was when he picked up the phone to hear his son's panicked voice coming through the other end. "Dad, Dad, it's Jughead, he's really sick and he's not waking up!"A remix of Chapter 8 of carefulren'sA Series of H/C One-Shots For Riverdale.





	Fathers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carefulren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Series of H/C One-Shots For Riverdale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322363) by [carefulren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren). 



The first Fred Andrews knew of it was when he picked up the phone to hear his son's panicked voice coming through the other end. " _Dad, Dad, it's Jughead, he's really sick and he's not waking up!_ " 

Fred shook his head to clear it, words not processing directly. "Archie, what? Where are you?" 

" _At Jughead's! He didn't come to school so I texted, but he didn't answer, so I came here to check on him. He won't wake up, Dad!_ " Archie's voice was rising higher and higher, panic for his friend obviously getting the better of him. 

"Stay right there!" Fred ordered, grabbing his car keys, already halfway out the door. "Just stay there, Archie, I'm coming." 

If he broke a few speed limits on his way across town, he couldn't bring himself to care right now. His boys needed him, and he'd worry about the tickets later. 

Finally, he pulled up outside the Jones' trailer, slamming the truck door open almost before he even turned off the engine. "Archie?" he shouted, taking the steps two at a time in his hurry. "Archie?" The door was unlocked, and inside the house smelt like beer and old sweat. Any other time, it might have made him falter, but now he could see his son across the room, sitting at Jughead's side with his head buried in his hands. 

Archie's head shot up. "Dad?" Already, Fred noted, he sounded less panicked.

"Has Jughead woken up yet?" 

Archie shook his head. "I tried, but he still won't wake up. He feels really hot, Dad." 

Fred crossed the room, bringing his son into a half hug, the best he could do while Archie was still sitting. "Okay. Did you get a thermometer?" 

"I didn't think of it. I just wanted to–" His eyes flicked over to Jughead, the rest of the sentence obvious. He didn't want to leave Jug alone. 

"Alright. You stay here, keep an eye on Jughead. I'll look for the thermometer. If he wakes up, call out to me." He waited for Archie's nod, then left. It wasn't a big place, and he knew there weren't likely many places for a thermometer to be. Still, he couldn't help but think, it would be much easier if FP was there to tell him, or even do anything to show he cared that his son was lying on the couch, too sick to even wake. Fred knew very well that if it was his kid, Archie would already be tucked up in bed with a glass of water beside him; he didn't even know if FP knew Jughead was sick at all. 

The thermometer was in the first place he looked, the bathroom cabinet. He didn't take the time to look around any further, just took it to the kitchen to wash off the dust, then returned to the main room. 

Archie looked up as he entered. "He still hasn't woken up. Should we be calling an ambulance, or a doctor?" 

He laid a hand gently on Archie's shoulder. "Let's just check his temperature first." 

He waited for the thermometer to beep, then checked the reading. High, but not dangerously so. "We shouldn't need to call an ambulance, not if we can deal with this here. There's got to be medicine somewhere around here, so I'll look for that while you stay with Jughead." Archie nodded, but still looked concerned. He titled his son's chin up until their eyes met. "Jug will be fine, Archie." 

Archie's frown had evened out a bit, so he left, heading back to the bathroom and the cabinet he had found the thermometer in. He hadn't noticed any medicine when he had gone to grab it, but he hadn't exactly taken the time to look around either. 

He opened up the cabinet. No medicine. Just a bottle of perfume, a small pink toothbrush, and a whole lot of dust, with a gap where the thermometer had been. He didn't think about what that could mean, just continued searching. The other cupboards had a few more items, a lot more dust, but still no medicine. 

He stepped out of the bathroom and back down the hall to the living room, calling out to Archie as he went, "There's nothing here. No medicine, no nothing." 

Walking into the main room, he was surprised to see Jughead finally awake – surprised, and relieved. With no medicine in the house, this had turned from a bad situation into a potentially dangerous one, but with Jug awake at least a trip to the hospital should be avoided. 

"Wha-?" Jughead started, but was interrupted by a volley of coughs, seemingly endless. Archie helped him upright, murmuring something to him as he ran a hand across Jug's back. As terrible as the situation was, Fred couldn't help but feel a little lighter just watching the interaction. 

He moved closer, wanting to comfort his boys. "He can't stay here," he said quietly to Archie. Jughead obviously needed help, and lying on a couch in a room smelling of beer was not going to be enough. 

Archie got that light in his eyes, the one Fred, from long experience, knew meant his son had an idea, and would not be letting go easily. "He can come back to our house." 

"That's not necessary," Jughead said, voice still hoarse from coughing. He rubbed at his chest, probably not even realising how vulnerable the action made him look. There was no way he was being left alone after that. 

Even so, Jughead wasn't his kid. "Where's FP?" 

A shrug. "He was supposed to get medicine and come back, but that was hours ago." 

He swore quietly, unable to keep it back, or the sarcastic, "Of course," that followed. He'd thought better of FP then leaving his sick son like that. The man must have changed more than he thought. 

He motioned for Archie to help Jughead up, supporting him from the other side when the kid started to wobble. 

"I really don't–" Jughead began, but Fred shushed him, worried at how faint his voice already sounded. This illness must have been building for a while. He could only hope it didn't get much worse. 

"It's fine, Jughead. Let us take you back to your house and take care of you, okay?" Jughead still didn't seem convinced, but Fred was almost past the point of caring. The kid was obviously sick, and wouldn't get any better in this house by himself. 

"Please, Juggie." 

Archie's pleading seemed to finally be enough to convince him, and Jughead relaxed, muscles loosening. "Okay." 

Fred readjusted his grip, careful not to let Jughead fall. Not again. 

They headed towards the door. 

 

***

 

Honestly, Fred couldn't even remember most of the drive home. All he really remembered about it was his boys in the backseat, Jughead looking exhausted even in sleep, and Archie curled up beside him, hand grasping the other boy's sleeve like Jughead would disappear if he didn't. That image stuck with him even as he parked the truck in the driveway, prompting Archie to look up, blinking sleepily. 

"C'mon, Archie," he said quietly, so not to wake the still sleeping Jughead. "Help me get him inside and in a bed." 

Archie nodded, hopping down out of the truck and slamming the door shut behind him. The next second he froze, looking over at Jughead. 

Jughead still didn't wake. 

"Dad," Archie said, voice betraying his returning panic, "Jug's not waking again." 

Fred wiped a hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. "Alright. We'll get him inside, check his temperature again." 

Carefully, they manoeuvred Jughead out of the truck, balancing him between them as they headed up to the house. "Archie, can you run ahead for the thermometer?" 

Archie nodded, slipping Jughead's arm from around his neck and sprinting for the house. Slightly off balance at the sudden weight, Fred stumbled, then recovered. Up this close, he could feel the heat radiating off Jughead, even through the boy's layers. He frowned. "Archie! Hurry with that thermometer!" He started moving faster. 

Archie ran out of the house, panting, the thermometer held out in front of him. "Here, dad. Got it." 

"Good." He checked Jughead's temperature and swore. This was anything but good news. "103. We need to get him inside and cooled off, fast." 

Archie pulled Jughead's arm around his neck again, tugging at the other boy until he was balanced between them, then started hustling forward, so fast that Fred nearly had to run to keep up. His son had gotten much taller over the holidays, and now it was really showing. 

It didn't take them long to get inside the house and up the stairs, despite the difficulties that came from trying to get two people, carrying a third, up the narrow staircase. Worry was a powerful motivator. 

At the top of the stairs, Archie pulled to one side, away from the guest room. Fred glanced at him questioningly. "He'll be more comfortable in my room," Archie explained. 

He conceded, moving towards Archie's room and lowering Jughead gently down to the bed, where he immediately curled up, cuddling under the blankets. 

"Sorry, Jug," he said softly, pulling the blankets back down again. "Not with that fever. Archie," he continued, still leaning over the bed, "get a cool cloth from the bathroom. We need to bring this fever down." 

Archie ran out of the room, and was back moments later with a cloth in hand. 

The doorbell rang. 

Fred sighed. "Alright, Archie. You stay here, bring down that fever. I'll get the door." 

He headed for the stairs. The boys should be alright for the few minutes it would take for him to answer the door. They were almost grown now, and even if he didn't like leaving them alone with Jughead so sick, this shouldn't take long. It was probably just Mrs Cooper again, complaining about Archie or wanting to know if Betty had come over. The sooner he could fob her off, the better, and he could get back to his boys. 

He came to the bottom of the stairs and headed to the front door, but was distracted by loud rapping on the back door. "Just leave the kids alone, woman," he muttered, heading through the kitchen to the back door. 

He opened the door, and FP Jones came storming in, rage evident in his every move. "Where's my son, Fred?" 

"Your son," Fred replied, unable to hold back his irritation, "is upstairs, in bed, asleep, which is exactly where he should be." 

"He's _my_ son! He belongs in my house, not here!" FP's bellow echoed through the house, bringing Archie to the kitchen doorway. "Who gave you the right to walk into my house and take my son, Fred?! Would you like it if I came in here and took Archie without your knowing?"

At that moment, just to make things worse, Jughead stumbled into the kitchen, pale and shivering. Fred groaned internally. He'd hoped that Jughead would stay asleep, not be woken up by his father causing a ruckus. The kid didn't need the stress right now, not while he still looked like he could barely stand upright. 

A moment later, his prediction proved right, and Jughead fell against Archie, who grabbed him around the waist, supporting him as he began coughing again. 

Any hope he had that that would be enough to convince FP to leave was dashed by FP's next words. "Jughead," he growled. "Let's go." 

Fred cut off his movement across the kitchen, stepping protectively in front of his two boys and crossing his arm. "He's sick, and you sure as hell weren’t doing anything for him." His rising anger forced his voice out as a low hiss. "He was pushing a 103-degree fever when we got him here.” 

FP didn't even have the sense to look ashamed. "I went to get him medicine and got a little tied up." 

Jughead's bitter laugh broke up their glaring match. "Just save it, dad, and go." He still sounded dangerously ill – even as Fred watched, he could see the way the boy leant further and further into Archie, yet somehow still kept his gaze firmly fixed on his father. It made Fred wonder uncomfortably how many times Jughead had been in this situation before, without Archie there to lean on. 

“You really going to talk to me that way." The question came out sounding more like a threat. 

Fred made to reply, but Archie cleared his throat, interrupting. “Look, can you just go? Jug’s really sick, and you aren’t helping.”

FP glared at them, and Fred returned it evenly. He and FP had been friends once, but right now, Jughead needed rest, and even an old friendship wouldn't be enough to stop him from kicking FP out if it came down to it. 

FP must have gotten the message, as he spat out, "Don't bother coming home," before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him. 

The echo hadn't even faded before Jughead was falling, Archie panicking and swearing as he soon became the only thing keeping his friend upright. 

In a quick leap, Fred was across the room, helping Archie to brace Jughead's weight. He was worried at the glazed over look in Jug's eyes, like he wasn't even registering what was happening. "I think that fever's risen again." He felt Jughead's forehead and cursed. "He needs medicine, now." 

Quickly, he heaved the boy into his arms, carrying him up the stairs and back to Archie's bedroom. As soon as he had Jughead settled, he grabbed the cool cloth from before, wiping the sweat off Jug's forehead. Behind him, Archie disappeared, then came back again, medicine and a glass of water in hand. 

It took a few minutes, but soon Jughead blinked back to awareness. "Sorry," he breathed, eyes clouding over with a painful mix of guilt and regret – but at least the blankness was gone. 

Fred shushed him as quickly as Archie did. "Don't worry about it." He moved back from the bed, allowing Archie to come closer with the medicine and water. 

"You don't have to apologise, Jug," Archie said, smoothing the damp cloth across Jughead's forehead. "You aren't your father." 

Jughead smiled at him, and so did Fred. Jughead wasn't the only one who was turning out different from his father, and maybe that would be enough for their friendship to be a lasting one. Quietly, he left the room, letting the new generation of Jones and Andrews support each other like their fathers never quite managed.


End file.
